


Viva Las Vegas

by ahana



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: I'll update the tags as I go along :), M/M, Vegas! AU, Whoops we got married! AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahana/pseuds/ahana
Summary: They say what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Of course, with Isak’s luck, what happens in Vegas kicks his ass and follows him back to Oslo.





	Viva Las Vegas

**_1 | Las Vegas_ **

**_“_ ** _Viva Las Vegas with your neon flashin’ and our one arm bandits crashin’ all those hopes down the drain. Viva Las Vegas turnin’ day into nighttime, turnin’ night into daytime. If you see it once, you’ll never be the same again._ **_”_ **

**_~_ ** _Elvis Presley_

* * *

 

 

Above all the ruckus the 3 boys in front of him are causing, Isak Valtersen’s brain has come to the conclusion that all of this _may_ have been his fault.

In his defense, Isak’s had a really tough week, okay? He was supposed to have a day off yesterday to pack for the trip but his boss decided to call him in because she had a “genius solution” for the loopholes in the company’s new firewall design. It wasn’t quite the “genius solution” that required attention at 20:00 but he could hardly be mad at her seeing as how she was Mahdi’s aunt and the reason why he wasn’t currently broke. However, he _could_ be mad at the cute barista at KB for not noticing Isak’s blatant (“I wouldn’t exactly call it blatant Isak.” “It’s blatant enough Jonas!”) flirting. He also got no sleep the night before because while in the midst of trying to pack a week’s possessions into a tiny ass suitcase, he got a _lovely_ text from his mother which opened a whole can of worms he was not, and probably will never be, ready to open. Not to mention the crying baby who wouldn’t shut up and the homophobic flight attendant on the airplane. All in all, he’s had a shitty two days. He’s allowed to make mistakes, okay?

Apparently, his friends don’t agree.

“This is your fault,” Jonas says with his head rolling up to look at the sky. Isak looks up along with him to see a plane taking off into the clouds and wonders where it’s going. At least it’s not stuck under the hot sun waiting for two black suitcases to arrive.

“Thank you for stating something you haven’t said at least three times in the last five minutes,” Isak retorts.

Jonas looks back at him with the most incredulous expression Isak has ever seen on his face.

“I’m sorry. I think I’m entitled to saying that how many ever times I want, considering how you,” Jonas responds, pointing a finger at him and pulling up a finger for every accusation on his other hand, “got me sick, lost our luggage _and_ forgot to rent the fucking car!”

“How was I supposed to know the fish would make you puke?”

Jonas just throws his hands in the air and Isak rushes to defend himself, “I-it’s been a tough week dude!”

A sigh. “I know, Isak, but –”

“Okay stop it, you two,” Yousef interjects, holding up a hand to each of their chests, “chill. We’re sorting it out, aren’t we? Magnus is talking to Mahdi to fix us a ride and the nice assistant is tracking our stuff. A couple of minutes in the sun won’t hurt us.”

“Yeah, Jonas. A couple of minutes in the sun won’t hurt us,” Isak said, sarcastically. 

Jonas clapped three times. “Wow, Isak. Real mature.”

Isak took a bow. What can he say? He’ll take any compliment he can get.

Jonas turns away and Isak looks behind him to see Magnus still on the phone with Mahdi. He’s the only one who was sensible enough to pack a fucking cap with him so the sun isn’t biting _his_ head off, unlike the other three boys. They’re standing outside the airport, as far away as they could get from the hordes of people flocking the doors without staying too out-of-sight of the baggage claim exit. Next to him, Yousef is humming a song under his breath while he engages in what could only be a waltz with his suitcase. Jonas is in the process of pulling out his sunglasses from his huge ass camera bag and Isak is just trying to stay alive under the goddamn sun.

He turns to face Magnus and waves his hands in the air, hoping to get his attention.

“Hold on,” Magnus says into the phone, “Isak’s being a baby and needs attention.”

Isak conveniently flips him off as he brings his hands down. “How much longer dude?”

“Isak’s asking how much longer,” Magnus says to Mahdi through the phone. Isak notices that the phone seems to be larger than his face. Weird.

“Mahdi says Even should be here in twenty minutes.”

“Even?”

“Yeah.”

“Even as in the guy who never leaves Mahdi’s and Aina’s side at every party?”

Magnus blinks as he listens to his phone and then guffaws. “Mahdi’s surprised you still remember him!”

“Of course, he does. Isak has found only three guys cute up to this day. Jonas, Even and cute barista guy,” Yousef helpfully (read: unhelpfully) offers.

“Oh yeah! What happened with the barista,” Jonas asks at the same time Isak blushes and tries to defend himself with sputtered mumbles, “I have not! I find people cute all the time. I hook up on a regular basis.”

“Hooking up with your computer doesn’t count Isak,” Magnus says with a straight face.  

“Fuck off cat hooker.”

“Isak,” Yousef groans at the topic of Magnus’s infamous hook-up being brought up for the millionth time in five years, “are you seriously going to bring that up?”

Isak has to admit that Yousef is right. He could definitely come up with a better insult than Magnus’s nights with the cat-tongue girl. He shakes his head out of disappointment. He needs sleep, that’s all, and by morning he’ll be back to grade A insults.

“Seriously Isak,” Magnus shrieks, “I’m only shutting up because Mahdi asked me to.”

“Thanks for doing us that favor,” Jonas mutters.

“I give up,” Yousef says, throwing his hands up.

Isak smiles at the banter and turns back around to face the cars driving up by him. He makes a note of each car passing him while occasionally tuning into the Magnus-never-shuts-up argument Jonas is having with Yousef. A Toyota drives past him and suddenly Isak’s thinking about how weird it is to be standing eight thousand kilometers away from where he met the five boys with him and yet they’re having the same conversations they would be having in their favorite kebab place. He never thought they’d still be friends with him after everything his fucked up self puts them through but here they are listing Jonas’s ten worst hook-ups like a regular Thursday. Oh, Isak has to join in on this.

Isak yells, “boys!” He waits for them to look at him, then dramatically turns his head around and continues, “are we seriously forgetting Alien Boy?”

Magnus laughs loudly as he puts Mahdi on speaker, letting his chortles carry through the phone.

“This is Yousef’s favorite story!”

Jonas groans, sliding a hand up to cover his eyes as Yousef begins his impersonation of the odd boy Jonas had hooked up with at a bar during his first year of college. They had gone out on a Friday so that Isak could meet the “most interesting guy” Jonas had ever run into, also known today as Yousef Acar. Had Isak been slightly jealous? Yes. But once Yousef and Isak got to talking, he realized that Yousef was actually _not_ trying to steal his best friend and just wanted help with his sociology homework (Isak could relate seeing as how Jonas had done 90% of Isak’s sociology homework the previous semester). Of course, teasing Jonas about the hook-up he ditched the two of them for, also made for excellent bonding.

Isak watches in amusement as Yousef sweeps his hair onto his forehead to imitate the green-haired boy and pulls his sunglasses out to balance them around his neck. He can already feel the laughter bubbling inside him; there’s no way he’s going to make it through this with a straight face.

“How _dare_ you. My grandfather saw the aliens! They came to him. Not you! Not you! Him,” Yousef says with an exaggerated low-pitched voice. He points to every one of the boys and then finally ends with a smile directed at Jonas, “Now kiss me.”

Laughter erupts around him as Jonas mumbles, “he was hot. I was horny. We were drunk, okay.”

“Well, why can’t I use the same excuse for my hook-ups,” Magnus asks.

“Because your hook-ups are –”

Isak’s retort is cut short by the honk of a car behind him and a shrill “Isak Valtersen and Yousef Acar!” in front of him. He chooses to look in front of him to see the assistant from the Baggage Claim who was tracking their suitcases, with one hand above her head. She calls for them again so he waves in acknowledgement and walks towards her, pulling Yousef by the arm. They step into the airport and Isak has half a mind to never step out of the air-conditioned room, fuck Mahdi’s wedding. He’d sleep on the blue carpet lining the airport walls as long as he didn’t have to be subject to the hot sun waging war on his head. Quickly, Isak realizes that this is all Mahdi’s fault. Who the hell decides to get married in the summer anyway, in fucking Vegas of all places? Mahdi’s lucky Isak loves the guy to pieces.

“So, Mahdi said Even was coming to pick us up,” Yousef says, after they’d collected their luggage and thanked the assistant.

Isak looks at him and furrows his eyebrows. Yousef’s head is bent down towards the ground as he begins to roll his suitcase behind him. Isak hastens his walk to catch up to him and says, “Yeah. I was right there, bro.”

“Right. I haven’t talked to him yet,” Yousef says shakily, lifting his head up to flash Isak a small smile.

“Really?”

“Have you?”

Isak just nodded his head and looked over to where the other boys were supposed to be waiting for them. In their place, though, stood a black SUV with an obnoxiously attractive man hanging off of the passenger’s door. Black sunglasses covers his eyes allowing Isak’s eyes to fixate on the grin dangling on his lips as he watches Magnus enthusiastically talk. His blonde hair’s falling onto his face in all kinds of ways and Isak suspects he had probably just woken up. Isak would never admit out loud that he found him attractive, much less that he thought he looked as hot right now as he did in tight jeans and a bandana under neon lights, but that doesn’t stop a part of him from internally drooling a bit.

“Isak,” Magnus screams from where he was standing behind the car, watching Jonas load all the suitcases into the trunk, “you remember Even, ey?”

Isak narrows his eyes in Magnus’s direction as he lightly touches his lower lip to make sure there was no physical drool. He swears that boy is as unsubtle as a marching band on May 17. The boy in question turns around and on seeing Isak, perches his glasses on his nose.

“Yeah,” he nods at Even, “hey.”

Even beams at him and nods back. Then, his eyes subtly widen as his eyes move to focus on something behind Isak. He looks behind himself to see Yousef sporting the same widened eyes oh-shit expression. Huh.

Isak hands his bags over to Jonas as Yousef and Even awkwardly exchange greetings over the noise of Jonas and Magnus fighting for the shotgun seat. Isak takes a peak in the front passenger seat and notices holes in the upholstery and… is that a spring popping out from the side of the seat? Jesus, how old was this car? Whatever. He’s definitely not riding shotgun.

“Hah! I win sucker,” Magnus yells.

Jonas mumbles incoherently as he climbs into the backseat. Magnus lets out a whoop and nearly pushes Isak out of the way while trying to get into the shotgun seat. In two minutes, everyone gets settled and Even drives them off towards a bed, fancy food and AC.

“So, what happened to your car,” Even asks from the front seat.

“Isak forgot,” Magnus offers with air quotes, “to rent it.”

Isak flips him off.

“Oi! You don’t get to flip me off. I’m sitting shotgun!”

Isak raises his eyebrows and exchanges an amused smirk with Even through the rearview mirror. Poor Magnus.

The moment they check into their rooms, Isak dashes towards his room, shouting over his back promises of meeting up with Mahdi when he’s functioning properly enough for a conversation. Isak falls onto the bed and chucks his shorts onto the floor. His sleep addled brain registers Jonas following into the room minutes later and copying Isak’s actions before diving under his own sheets. His eyes flutter close and his body begins to feel lighter, already anticipating the sweet touch of sleep after nearly 36 hours of no sleep.

That nice feeling doesn’t last long though, just like a lot of things in his life.

Isak wakes up to pounding on his door. His head feels like a heavy freight train collided with it. He’s absolutely sure it’s early o’ clock and he’s done nothing to deserve Satan at his doorstep (well… that could be argued for). _Harregud_ , jet lag is a bitch. Isak is in no physical state to answer the door but he’s also in no mental state to bear the constant pounding. He lets out a groan and turns his head to face a passed-out Jonas who’s lying with his legs hanging off his bed. Isak calls his name a couple of times and when all he gets is a snort and a humph, he throws his pillow at Jonas’s face.

Jonas startles awake with his hands flailing at his sides.

“What do you want, asshole?”

“Get the door!”

“Heh,” Jonas screeches, “why the fuck should I get it?”

“Because my head feels like a fricking barbell’s been dropped on it,” Isak yells.

“Wow. That’s gotta hurt,” a muffled third voice says. Isak lifts his head off the pillow and looks at the door.

“Even?”

“The one and only,” Even says from the other side of the door. Isak hears some shuffling and then a fist pounds the door again, “now open the door and let me in!”

If this was three years ago, Isak would have been surprised (and slightly creeped out) by a random acquaintance knocking on his door demanding to be let in. But this was three years later and Isak had met Even Bech Næsheim so his life will, quite literally, never be the same again.

“I hate this man,” Isak says to Jonas as he gets up and pulls on his shorts.

“Sure.”

Just as another knock rings through the hotel room, Isak opens the door to catch Even with his fist midair and a large paper bag in his hands. Isak raises his eyebrows as he gestures to the mysterious bag in Even’s hands, demanding an answer to his silent question. Even just smiles at Isak, tilting his head slightly to the left, making Isak roll his eyes to the back of his head. See, Even does this a lot. Like, _a lot_. He shows up at random times and takes Isak along for “an adventure” and then drops him off at home the next morning. In fact, it’s how they met in the first place.

Isak was at a party (don’t all the greatest stories start at a fucking party) and he was bored out of his bloody mind when Mahdi introduced him to Even.

“Even is a filmmaker,” he said, unsubtly winking at Isak. Isak narrowed his eyes at Mahdi and wondered what gave him the gall to set Isak up. Mahdi started a conversation about a movie he had seen over the weekend and then left as Aina oh so conveniently called him away. He sent Isak a suggestive look before disappearing into the crowd where Aina was supposedly waiting for him. Isak was going to excuse himself so he could kill Mahdi for leaving him in the most awkward situation with the hottest person he had ever seen, when Even spoke up.

“I’m not actually a filmmaker. At least, not yet.”

Isak looked up at Even who was leaning on the wall behind him. He was bathed in the neon lights of the party and his head was slightly bobbing along to the music on the speakers.

“Oh really,” Isak said, “so you’re going to –”

Isak felt a sweaty body press into his back, the feeling immediately cutting off his words and he moved closer to Even. He didn’t miss the way Even’s eyes lit up as he noticed Isak’s move and then drooped as he noticed the reason why. The body uncomfortably crushed Isak’s back and a drink came into a view as a series of unique expletives left his mouth.

“Should we get out of here,” Even asked.

“You want to stay. It’s okay,” Isak said, softly.

“I don’t want to,” Even had said.

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere, Isak. We could go anywhere.” Even’s eyes shone in the blue lights and Isak nodded because there’s no way he could say no to that face.

That night, Even had taken them swimming in a pool that was supposed to be aunt’s but ended up belonging to an old friend who didn’t even recognize him. They were chased out of the house by an old lady who was way too fit for her age (it was against the laws of nature for someone that old to be able to run, Isak had argued while Even just laughed and theorized that she was an alien) and they found themselves in a 24x7 kebab place. Even and Isak parted ways at 3 a.m. with each other’s numbers and a large smile (at least on Isak’s end). Even had left for India the next morning, on an internship with some famous director, save for some Seinfeld memes at midnight.

Four months later found Isak and Even stuck in the same situation, except this time they both walked out without a single conversation. Even took them to an art gallery where his own piece had been showcased during the week. When Even ran out of ways to dodge Isak’s compliments, they snuck into a theatre and played hide and seek till they got caught by a burly security guard.

It carried on like that for a while. Whenever he was in town, Even would seek Isak out and take them off on their next escapade. No one ever asked questions about it, so Isak was pretty sure that the boys had no clue Even and Isak knew each other as more than just acquaintances.

The latest escapade was just seven months ago, when Isak was interrupted in the middle of a date by Even who had showed up dressed in a tux (Isak still remembers the fucking shivers that ran through his body on seeing Even like that) with a bottle of champagne that he had stolen from his cousin’s wedding. That night they drank way too much and streaked naked through a park in Isak’s old neighborhood. Even dropped Isak off with apologies about interrupting his date, leaving Isak to wonder how Even didn’t notice that Isak would gladly drop everything he was doing to do whatever Even had planned for them. The adrenaline rush was like no other feeling Isak had ever experienced. It disconnected him from his books, his roommates, the texts on his phone, the unanswered calls and the usual dose of drama his life was dripped in. Every night with Even pushed him far away from actuality and towards a dream-like state he hadn’t believed existed. The fact that Even was hot was just a plus.

But this is how it all began, every single time – Even smirked, Isak asked a question, which he knew would go unanswered and yet did it anyway, and Even kept smirking until he revealed his plans for the evening.

“You look hot,” is what leaves Even’s mouth first as Even’s eyes rake the length of Isak’s body.

Isak’s eyes widen and he takes in Even’s appearance. He hadn’t changed out of his clothes but his hair has been swept back into a remarkable James Dean look and those fucking sunglasses are now on his head, giving Isak a clear fall into his bright blue eyes. An easy grin is playing on his lips and Isak wants to slam the door in his face before he does something stupid like lick those beautiful _beautiful_ lips. Isak quickly shakes himself out of his momentary trance. _Every time, goddamnit._ “You literally saw me two hours ago. What do you want,” he asks, drily.

“Alright, people,” Even announces instead, walking past Isak into the room. “We are going t – Where are the others,” he asks, halting suddenly at the sight of a lone Jonas lifting his head up from where it had been buried in a pillow fort. He has a groggy expression on his face that Isak is sure resembles his own. Jonas yawns and points to the paper bag in Even’s hands.

“I have no idea,” Isak answers Jonas between yawns of his own, “he won’t tell me.”

“Were you _actually_ sleeping,” Even poses his question to Isak with a bizarre look on his face. 

“Uh... _ja_? We’re not crazy,” Isak said as he walked towards the night stand to find his phone. He clicked it open and the numbers **19:56** flashed before him. Isak turned around to look at Even expecting a retort about his sleeping habits but found him standing at the foot of his bed following Isak’s movements with his eyes and an inscrutable look on his face. Isak raised an eyebrow in question but Even only blinked at him for a few seconds and before Isak could think to ask him if he was about to go into some sort of silent cardiac arrest, Even spoke up.  

“I’m calling the others. You two,” Even points at Isak and Jonas while walking backwards towards the door, “stay awake.”

“Aye aye captain,” Jonas says as he falls back into his pillow fort. _Stay awake, my ass_ , Isak thinks as he curls up on his duvet mirroring Jonas’s position.

 

 

The universe loves ruining Isak’s nights. That’s all he can think of as he downs the last of the drink in his cup. There’s traces of glitter at the bottom of the cup and strings of confetti stuck to the edges. To his right, Magnus bounces off the floor to the bass, yelling occasional words of encouragement to the DJ. Jonas wraps an arm around Isak’s neck, pulling him into the excited and jumbled jump sequence he’s got going on with Yousef. He flashes him a bright grin and Isak tepidly grins back, raising his empty cup as a toast. Jonas lets out a holler and crashes his cup to Isak’s, spilling at least sixty percent of his drink onto Isak’s shirt. As the bass drops again, Isak gets ready for the full tsunami of confetti headed for his face and empty cup. The DJ demands for everyone in the club to put their “fucking nasty hands in the air”. Mahdi and Aina throw their hands up, waving them over their heads like the air dancers who flail their plastic arms in front of car showrooms. The bass drops, the confetti are released, smoke curls towards them from underneath the stage, a drink is spilled on Isak’s pants and Isak’s had _enough_. A singer in shimmery shorts and a transparent shirt stands on the stage singing about being taken to bed like a porn star. Isak can’t relate. He just wants to be taken to bed, tucked in and left alone, not drowning in a sea of people chanting about “taking it up all the way” and trying to wish more alcohol into his empty cup.

A hand winds around Isak’s stomach and pulls him flush against a solid chest. Isak pulls his head back, nearly giving himself whiplash in the process, and is about to bring a foot up to what he hopes is the groin of his assailant when he spots the array of leather and birch bracelets strung around his assailant’s arms.

“It’s me,” a hoarse voice shouts into his hear, as a hand trails up to his chest to tap on it twice and _oh,_ Isak knows that voice. A lock of hair spills onto his cheekbones, buttons poke into his upper arm and from the corner of eyes, he can see the black sleeves of a shirt he had complimented in his head. He turns around and is greeted by a brilliant smirk falling off of lush lips and blue eyes drowning in the neon beams of light flashing over the club. _Oh great_ , Isak thinks as his eyes gravitate to Even’s red lips, Even’s white teeth and Even’s death-dealing smirk again, _I’m drunk as shit._

Isak pulls his eyes upwards to greet the boy – _for the love of the universe, at least say hi to the man before you mentally attack his lips_ – but is cut off by the DJ screaming into his mike again (seriously someone take the damn thing from him already, he’s annoying enough without it).

“Who’s getting laid tonight?”

Isak narrows his eyes, his lips pulling into an involuntary ‘O’ as he throws his head back slightly to look at the DJ. The club explodes into loud cheers and the bass drops, allowing the whole floor of people to erupt and collapse into the music. Isak’s _had_ it, he’s _actually_ fucking had it.

He can feel his breathing speed up and the tips of his finger shake but that could just be the bass. Isak turns back around to face Even when he hears a loud laugh trilling over the bass. Even’s eyes are closed shut and the corner of eyes are crinkled. Isak gives him a small smile and that’s when he notices Even’s still got his hand resting on the side of his waist. He steps out of Even’s hold, bumping into an ebullient Magnus behind him. Magnus yells when he realizes who he bumped into and hugs Isak from behind, wrapping both his hands around Isak’s chest and yelling nonsensical praises about the DJ. Isak pushes Magnus’s hands away from his chest in little punches. As Magnus’s twisting hands retreat, Isak feels his hands uncurl themselves from where they had glued themselves into a fist.

He looks at Even who’s frowning as he screams into Isak’s ear, “should we get out of here?”

Isak takes a deep breath – _never mind the alcohol and weed, he’s getting out of here, fuckers_ – and nods a yes at Even.

 

 

Stepping out of the stifling club took much longer than Isak had hoped, but he supposes that all forms of freedom take time. He should just be glad they got out of there before the sun rose, considering the millions of security checks they had to get through. What did they think they’d steal, anyway? The fucking DJ? Sure, because that would be a fucking shame.

Isak and Even end up standing at the entrance of the club, under the flashing neon arrow pointing towards the glass doors. The sidewalk is littered with pieces of paper and brown stains of splashed alcohol. A cool breeze makes its way through Isak’s hair and Isak takes a deep breath in, inhaling the weed-free, beer-free, scream-free air. Of course, that’s broken by the hoots from travelling club-hoppers. Isak’s feet are still shaking from the reverberating of the bass from inside. He rolls eyes to the sky and looks at the moon, wondering if it’s willing to let a piece of it come and crash Vegas. At least he won’t have to deal with that fucking DJ, if the apocalypse arrives.

“We’ll never escape it by standing here, you know,” Even says, next to him.

“You got any ideas?”

“I’ve got tons of ideas.” 

“Well spill ‘em, party boy,” Isak says with the roll of eyes, “what are you waiting for?”

Even just smirks at him. _That fucking smirk again_. Isak swears that if it weren’t for his eternal fear of his mother appearing as he “indulges in his sins”, he would have kissed Even senseless till that smirk was wiped off his mouth.

Okay that’s it. Isak is fuck as drunk and he needs water. Fast.  

“Come on,” Even says as he takes a step backwards. Isak’s about to ask where the fuck they’re going and if they can get a glass of water there, when Even turns around and continues walking away from Isak. The lights of the palm trees lining the Strip illuminate his blonde hair and run streaks across the back of his shirt. Cars zip past him, an Elvis impersonator winks at him from across the street and Even takes three more steps before Isak’s jogging to catch up to him.

There had better be water where they’re going or Isak is quite literally going to jump this man’s bones ( _and lips and back and arms and face_ , his mind offers kindly).

“Great,” Isak mutters in reply.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tw: ableist language
> 
> I’ve always pictured Isak to be a sarcastic, dramatic little shit who rambles way too much inside his head so that’s probably what came out here. Apologies, if it’s way too much!
> 
> I’ve also never been to the Las Vegas airport and I kept picturing the Orlando airport while writing. On the same note, I’ve never been to Las Vegas itself, I’ve never been in a club and I’ve never had a sip of alcohol. Everything in this story is from pictures, blogs, stories and other places I could find descriptions as well as my imagination. So, I’m sorry if some of the technical details are horribly wrong.
> 
> Also, the shotgun thing: I’m not sure if this is done everywhere, but my friends and I had this rule that the person sitting shotgun couldn’t get teased/dragged because they “held all the power in the car” (in terms of the AC and music).
> 
> Hope this wasn’t too bad!  
> You can find me on tumblr: @thatgirl-intheback :)


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